Surrender to Temptation (17 page)

“Come here.” Nervously, I crossed back to where Zach still stood. He was now gloriously naked, completely bare before my eyes, but I wasn't allowed to lift my eyes from the floor.

When I reached him he turned me, sliding his hands over my shoulders and down my rib cage, brushing the sensitive sides of my breasts as he stroked his way back up my body.

Trailing his fingers delicately over the nape of my neck, he wrapped his hand around my long ponytail. As he tugged gently, I could feel him tying the length in a knot, ensuring that the abundance of hair was completely out of the way.

“Now, let's discuss your punishment.” I gasped as he drew me back against him sharply, using his hands to press my hips back against him. His cock, which was erect if not completely hard, nestled in the crevice between my buttocks, and I fought the urge to grind myself back against him.

“My punishment?” I was truly puzzled. I was trying to follow his orders, I really was.

“Though some of your recent activities leave much to be desired, there is only one thing that you are to be punished for tonight.” His lips brushed over my ear and I shivered involuntarily, even as my gut clenched at his words.

This was not something that I was going to like. I was somehow certain of it. Still, the brush of his fingers, following the trail of warm breath along my neck, told me that I would like anything he told me to.

“What have I done?” A sharp pinch on the nerve that lay in the tender spot where my neck met my shoulder reminded me that he hadn't given me permission to speak. Grinding my teeth together with frustration, I quieted, though I didn't want to.

“Your former lover placed his hands on you.” Shock whipped through me and I tried to turn, to confront him over the unfairness of his comment. His hands had come to rest on my waist, holding me still, and I was forced to speak while looking away from him.

“That is not at all fair. I didn't invite Tom to San Francisco. And I certainly didn't ask him to touch me!” Surely Zach wasn't serious. He couldn't be.

He squeezed my waist, his touch firm.

“You placed yourself in a situation in which he was able to lay his hands on you.” I jolted forward, twisting this time until I did break free from Zach's touch. As if he had been expecting it, he said nothing, simply eyeing me contemplatively.

“We went for coffee, Zach. Coffee. And I managed to get some closure. So what's the problem?” I found that I was angry, truly angry now. Somehow, I had thought that these games that Zach and I were playing would be based upon honesty, and this seemed like a ruse.

I was humbled by his next words. “You didn't consider how it would make me feel, seeing you with another man.” I opened my mouth to retort, then closed it quietly when I realized that I had nothing to say.

By telling me this, by punishing me for this, he was opening a part of himself up. He had just told me that I had the power to hurt him. And that seeing me with another man, someone I used to date, had hurt him.

It made me want to please him all the more.

Still . . . “Haven't you already punished me for this?” I thought of the pain wrought by the supple leather of his belt, and something red and slick rolled over in my gut.

Zach shook his head slowly, and I caught the glint in his eye that told me that he was thoroughly enjoying this.

“A quick fuck in an elevator is not proper punishment for how you made me feel, Devon.” Gesturing across the room with his right arm, he motioned for me to look. Turning, I saw a large wooden post positioned by the glass wall, so that if someone leaned against it, they could peer out at the raging waves of the sea at the same time.

Coiled on the floor at the base of the post was the whip that I had held in my hand before. I felt my heart skip a beat, then resume its pounding, double time.

I knew, without a doubt, that the whip was not about to be used on me.

“You said that you would whip me, if I still wanted you to.” The expression in Zach's eyes was flat as he looked at me. The need for him to be punished ran deeper than I had ever imagined.

I tried to hide it, because he wouldn't have appreciated it at all, but sympathy washed over me in a wave. What was it that clawed at his soul? What made him crave such punishment? “Zach.” Before, his request to be whipped had seemed to be a knee-jerk reaction, something to help scrub away the residue of his nightmare. Now, I could see how deep he truly craved it. I could also see that it wasn't fully about him.

He knew that I was uncomfortable with this. Therefore this was the punishment for my flagrant disregard of his feelings. I wished I could explain to him that I hadn't been intentionally careless with what he felt.

Rather, I hadn't had any clue that I was capable of making him feel anything at all.

Humbled, my head reeling, I crossed the room and picked up the whip. My fingers were cold, numb, and they felt clumsy as I wrapped them around the thick length of the handle.

I couldn't speak. But I could give this to him. Starting to tremble with the knowledge of what I was about to do, I looked up at the beautiful, complex man before me and nodded once, sharply.

“Good girl.” He wasn't as joyous as he might have been, having won this battle. As he crossed the room to the post, and I saw the stiffness in the lines of his frame, I began to see how deep the connection between his need for pleasure and pain and his nightmares ran.

“Do you remember how to do this?” He twisted, looked back at me before positioning himself at the post. I let my mind run back to the sensation of his hand over mine, swinging through the air, the tail of the whip cracking as it landed on the floor.

I shuddered, and not with pleasure, before forcing myself to nod.

“I remember.” What I was about to do, I did entirely for Zach.

I watched numbly as he positioned himself against the tall wooden post. Lifting his arms above his head, he pressed a cheek against the smooth, pale width and widened the stance of his legs.

“You are going to give me five blows.” His voice told me that there would be no arguing. “And I will know if you are holding back.”

I watched as he closed his eyes. He was completely on display as he leaned against the post, the twilight shadows casting interesting art on the glory of his body. I found myself pondering the dichotomy of a being so perfect on the outside, and so twisted and scarred within.

“Devon!” It sounded as though he spoke through gritted teeth. I cringed, then lifted the hand holding the whip.

I would do this quickly, and get it over with.

Every muscle in my body was tense. But despite myself, I could sense his need for what I was about to do to him. With my hand lifted in the air, I froze, not sure if I would be able to follow through.

Then I looked at the man standing in front of me. I had asked him to open himself up. Though this was not at all what I had imagined, I had gotten my wish.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I sent the whip flying.

I knew before it landed that I had missed, the tip hitting the floor inches to the right of Zach's foot.

He said nothing, no chastisement, no further encouragement. I watched his reflection in the glass. He waited, his eyes closed, his expression blank.

Pure sensation crashed over me as I watched him standing there. Feelings that I hadn't wanted clenched around my heart with needy fingers and squeezed tightly.

In that moment I would have done anything for him. And so I lifted the whip again, and this time brought it home.

•   •   •

T
he moment the fifth lash had been administered, I collapsed on the floor, my knees no longer able to support me. Though my throat felt besieged with emotions, my eyes remained dry as I watched the man in front of me unfurl from his position at the post, his back striped liberally with red, and one small cut of crimson where the lash had dug too deep.

“I'm sorry.” My heart pounded, the blood that rushed through my ears sounding like the hooves of a horse in full gallop. “I am so sorry. Please. Please forgive me.” I began to tremble, icy cold spreading over my skin.

Zach knelt on the floor next to me, and began to rain tender kisses over my face, my shoulders, my neck.

“You darling girl, don't be sorry.” He seemed lighter than he had since I had met him, as if the blows of the whips had chased away some of the demons that haunted him. “You have helped me so much. You've done so well. It is time for your reward.”

I sniffled, determined not to cry. I watched with wide eyes as he stood and then helped me to my feet.

Heat began to rain down over the chill that permeated my body when he danced his eyes over me, looking his fill at my naked flesh. His cock rose as he stared intensely at the damp heat between my legs, which was still partially hidden by the thin white cotton of my panties.

“Take those off.” He was again in full control. I felt as if a piece of myself that I used to know had been bulldozed to the ground, and I didn't have the strength to argue or to question.

Hooking my fingers in the elastic at my hips, I pulled the cotton down until it dropped to the floor. Unabashed, Zach drank in the view of my naked pussy with greedy eyes.

“Sit on the end of the bed.” As I moved to obey, he brought a large bag over to me. Reaching inside, he removed two objects, one of which I recognized, one that I didn't.

He handed me the one that was unfamiliar. It was composed of four connected beads that were graduated in size with a ring at one end. I couldn't imagine what it was for.

“You liked watching the two men fuck at the club, didn't you?” As he spoke, he unscrewed the lid from the object that I did recognize—a tube of lubricant.

Heat spread over my skin as he drizzled a stream of thick, clear gel over the string of beads that I held in my hands.

“You know I did.” What had turned me on even more was that the entirely masculine Zach had been just as into the scene as I was.

“Anal play feels good for both men and women.” Closing the tube of lubricant, Zach reached over and rubbed it into my fingers. My entire body tightened with excitement.

“You've given me pain tonight, and now I want to share in the pleasure.” He turned away from me, my eyes level with his trim waist, and I could feel my clitoris pulsing with the heat of extreme arousal.

This was not something I could ever have imagined, but I was so, so into it.

“What . . . what do I do?” I felt again that he was allowing me to be empowered, even though he was the one telling me what to do.

I had never before in my life felt so in control, and I relished the sensation.

“Rub some of the lubricant over me.” I did as he said, placing my slick hands on his flesh, massaging the liquid in.

Fully aware of the ultimate goal, I held my breath and trailed one finger up to the entrance of his ass. When I pressed against the pucker of his anus, the tip of my finger breached his flesh, pulling tightly at me.

He hissed in a breath, then moaned long and slow.

“Now take the beads.” I removed my finger from his heat, shuddering with need. “Hold them by the ring, then press the smallest bead right where your finger just was.”

I did as I was told, my every nerve on fire. I placed the smallest bead against his anus, then pushed, slowly.

Zach let out a strangled moan and pushed back against me. The first bead slid inside his flesh.

Perspiration dotted my brow, and yet I felt myself grow wetter between my thighs.

“Now the next one.” It was harder to get the bigger bead in, for his flesh fought the intrusion. Finally all four beads were buried tightly inside his body, the ring snugged against the hard planes of his ass.

Zach turned then, and I saw that his cock was engorged to what had to be the point of pain. Fisting his hands in my hair, he brought me just close enough to reach out and flick my tongue over the semen that had pooled at the tip of his shaft.

“One day soon I'm going to fuck your ass with my cock.” I whimpered, then closed my mouth over the tip of his cock. He allowed me just a taste before positioning me back on the bed and flipping me so that I lay on my stomach.

One finger stroked down the trail of my spine, skirting my ass and delving into the slickness of my pussy. Using my own wetness to ease his path, he pressed his finger against my anus and pressed until he breached the firm ring of muscle.

I cried out, pressing my face into the cool, crisp covers of the bed. With just the tip of his finger he fucked forward and back, just teasing me with a sample of what he must have been feeling at that very moment.

“You've been so very patient, Devon.” Pulling his finger from me, I felt him reach for the bag that had held the anal beads and the lubricant. What he removed this time sounded metallic, and I lifted my head, trying to see.

“Be patient just a little bit more, little minx.” Pulling at my hips until my pelvis and legs hung off the bed, he placed his hands between my thighs and shoved them far apart.

“I want your legs as wide open as they can get.” I felt him kneel behind me on the carpet. “I'm going to be deeper inside of you than anyone has ever been.” He placed one hand on my inner thigh. With the other he shoved a finger right into my waiting cunt, moving back and forth several times in quick succession.

My hips bucked against him, my movements hindered by the bar.

“I'm going to fuck you until you are sore. Tomorrow, every time that you move, you'll think of my cock, deep inside of your cunt.”

“Zach.” I shifted restlessly. I wanted—no, needed—his touch.

“I'm not done yet.” Only then did he let me see what he had pulled from the bag. It looked like nothing so much as a thin silver clothespin. Its twin joined it, and I eyed them warily, fairly certain that I wouldn't like what was about to happen.

“That's going to hurt.” My arms were still free, and I covered my breasts with my hands. An arch look from Zach had me dropping them again, albeit reluctantly.